


We Need To Talk About Ian

by Pisces21Red



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, S05E01- Milk of the Gods, Worried Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pisces21Red/pseuds/Pisces21Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S05E01 - Milk of the Gods</p><p>How exactly Ian wore Mickey out and when Mickey feels that there's something not right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Need To Talk About Ian

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally a race against the fucking clock fic because for some reason this took me a week to write, and I wanted to get this out before the next episode of Shameless aired but obviously that didn't work out.
> 
> I think my inability to come up with good and original titles is pretty known by now, so yeah, shitty title, ignore it or whatever, I don't know.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy reading.

Fiona and Lip’s words from a few hours earlier began to seemingly out of nowhere inch their way into Mickey’s brain. Which was pretty fucking weird since he was in the middle of slowly and quietly riding their little brother’s dick in the soft light of what had now become _their_ room in the Milkovich house, while everyone else was dead asleep or at least close to falling asleep. Who the fuck knew.

What was even weirder was the blank look that reflected in Ian’s orbs and the absentminded stroking up Mickey’s sides causing the Milkovich to frown and his brows to slightly draw together in confusion and uncertainty. He wasn’t the type to be particularly self-conscious, but when you’re grinding yourself on your boyfriend’s dick and he seems to be off in another fucking dimension somewhere in nowhere land, then that tended to do wonders for one’s self-esteem.

Though the thing that got Mickey was the fact that Ian was still hard; hard as a fucking titanium piece of steel or some shit. And his eyes were focused on Mickey, running all over his body but the Milkovich could tell it was Ian’s mind that didn't appear to care too much about the current activity he was involved in, like it was contemplating over something or another.

So, Mickey reluctantly started slowing down in his gradual movements and it apparently got Ian’s attention. “What’s up?”

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up, his body motionless, yet still seated on the taller male’s pulsing cock, his own starting to wilt in the slightest hint of embarrassment. “Why don’t you tell me, starry eyes?”

“What?”

“The fuck you thinkin’ so hard about that you ain’t appearin’ the least bit interested?”

Ian frowned and shifted a little causing Mickey to shudder at the velvet friction of the Gallagher rubbing against his insides. “I’m still hard.”

“You know what the fuck I mean.”

Sighing, Ian relaxed further into the bed beneath him, his broad and warm hands resting on Mickey’s thighs. “Shit, a few minutes ago you were mumblin’ in my ear about not bein’ able to sleep and actin’ all playful and now you’re lyin’ there like some fuckin’ zombie. You tired?”

Ian quickly shook his head. “Nah, far from it. Just got some shit on my mind and stuff, y’know?”

“No, I don’t think I do know.” Mickey raised his eyebrows and clamped his teeth hard on his bottom lip. “Must be some real important shit if you’re zonin’ out on me while I’m takin’ you in balls deep. Me ridin’ your dick, am I borin’ you?”

“Jesus, _no_ , Mickey.”

Looking at the Gallagher’s face, Mickey believed him. He really did because he’d known the redhead long enough to pick up whatever he was throwing down whether it be directly or indirectly and his expression as well as his still interested dick told Mickey that Ian wasn’t lying through his teeth.

But it didn’t explain why Ian, the same Ian that had the sexual appetite of one of those gay ass, over hyped supernatural creatures you see running around on every other T.V. show and movie nowadays, had Mickey feeling like he was fucking a robot with an attached human dick.

It might as well have been a dildo he was fucking himself on if Ian was going to be so unenthusiastic.

He started to lift himself off of the redhead’s dick, still going strong despite the less than sexy confrontation they’re having, knowing that they most likely had to talk about this since they were in an actual relationship now which meant communication and all that other sappy bullshit. But Ian stopped him. “Where you going?”

“What d’you mean where I’m goin’? You’re obviously not in the mood and as you can see this conversation wasn’t doin’ it for me on my end…” Mickey pointed to his depressingly, wilted cock.

Mickey was left breathless for a couple seconds as he saw the room spin and felt his back collide roughly with the sheet mussed bed. “What the f-”

“Oh yeah? How about we fix that?” Ian continued and Mickey was confused for a second before he realized that he was referencing to Mickey’s comment about Ian’s lack of enthusiasm and his own disappearing interest.

The smug and sexy Ian was back replacing the robotic one Mickey just witnessed in a matter of seconds and the Milkovich felt his stomach swoop out from beneath him. It couldn’t be…because he was better right?

“…Nah, man, we should go to sleep and in the morning we can talk about what’s got you so fucked up that not even me riding your dick the way you like it could get your ass to focus.” Mickey smirked mockingly.

Ian chuckled and leaned down to mouth his way along Mickey’s jaw line. “No way. Now I gotta make it up to you for not paying attention.”

Mickey closed his eyes at a particularly toe-curling suck Ian graced his neck with causing his dick to jump at the idea of getting hard again. His brain short circuited for the slightest of seconds before he internally shook his head trying to focus back onto the matter at hand. “’Ay, wait a minute, hold up…”

“Hmm?” Ian tilted his head up, glancing up at Mickey from the corner of his eyes as he was still latched onto the Milkovich’s neck.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” The Gallagher showed no sign of having heard Mickey’s question as he continued to trace his tongue over the soft and sensitive skin before him while starting to grind himself against Mickey’s inner thigh.

Mickey bit his lip and gently pulled on a fistful of Ian’s heavily gelled strands determined to understand what was going through the preoccupied male’s mind. “What, Mickey?” He questioned, his voice taking on an exasperated and rough undertone.

The Milkovich let his mouth drop open in shock and what he refused to identify as hurt before scowling. “Well, first, you can do somethin’ about your fuckin’ tone,” Mickey warned, though he and Ian both knew he wasn’t going to do shit about it. “And I just…I’m worried about you, man, no wait, c’mon…”

Ian had rolled his eyes and pushed himself up to sit on his knees regarding Mickey with a look of disbelief. “What, now Fiona’s going around initiating more and more people into this whole Get-Ian-To-A-Doctor-Before-He-Turns-Into-Another-Monica club, right? ‘Cause I gotta feeling that’s where this conversation’s going…”

“No, no, Ian, look…” Mickey was now propped up on his elbows and ran a hand over his face. A part of him was regretting bringing this shit up and he should’ve known that the Gallagher would connect the dots so quickly when he confronted him about the subtle things he’s noticed about him over the last few months before _and_ after that fucked up…whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. Episode? Mental breakdown? He didn’t know.

But another part of him was truly curious and wanted Ian to _talk_ to him. They’ve been domesticated as fuck lately which felt good to Mickey. Amazing actually. And Mickey was loving all of it. The teasing. The touches. The looks. All in front of everyone too, his family, Ian’s family; if it was a shock to people, it had to be the greatest shock to him at how easily adjusted and _comfortable_ he became in his role as a boyfriend, a dysfunctional one, but who the fuck had a normal relationship anyway? That shit didn’t exist.

And when Lip and Fiona had come to him earlier talking about taking him to see a shrink and trying out some meds, listing out a whole list of symptoms of this damn disease, a flash of Ian displaying almost all of the signs in one way or another popped up in Mickey’s head, causing Mickey to start to doubt what he secretly may have known all along, as completely fucking backwards as that sounded.

He was quick to come up with an excuse for the hypersexuality claim but for the others? Recklessness? Fast-talking? Can’t sleep? What the fuck was the reason behind some of those?

And the fact that Ian had told them he had quit smoking yet he was definitely just puffing on a joint as Mickey could still smell the lingering scent on the Gallagher’s breath as well as throughout the room. He thought quitting smoking meant _all_ smoking, not just cigs but he guessed he missed the fuck out of that memo. He wasn’t sure if that made its way onto the list of endless symptoms, but if he was being honest, he’d rather him smoke a joint than some Marlboros since the joint would at least mellow his ass out.

He didn’t want to believe it, let alone think about it. Hearing Fiona mention their mother, the bitch that was right up there on his shit list, someone he hated on principle, made Mickey’s hardened and annoyed facial expression at the ridiculous “errand” he had to run ‘cause some dick-bag didn’t understand the American way of respect, falter at the prospect of Ian turning out as crazy as that whacked out bitch. It wasn’t happening. Not while he and any other person that cared about Ian was around.

“Mickey,” said man focused his attention back onto Ian at hearing his name being called. “I promise you that I’m fine. I _am_ fine. Alright? I…I’ve been going through some things but it’s nothing anyone has to freak out over. I don’t need to see a doctor, I don’t need any meds and I swear to you that you’ll be the _first_ , the absolute first one I tell, if I feel like I’m going outta my fucking mind. Okay?”

Incessantly chewing on his lower lip, Mickey swallowed, his eyes switching back and forth between Ian’s and though he still wasn’t able to shake the worry and dread lining his stomach, he wanted to believe Ian. So he did. Cautiously, of course. If there was one thing Terry taught him that stuck to Mickey was that with doubt, you better be ready for any type of shit that came after it ‘cause it always did. Doubt wouldn’t exist otherwise, it’s like one of the body’s built-in defense mechanisms.

In this case, Mickey really hoped he was wrong but with his luck, the fucking douche would end up being right on point.

He nodded and Ian’s face visibly relaxed before Mickey felt the firm press of the ginger’s soft lips against his own. “Okay?” Ian repeated.

“Yea…yeah, okay.”

“Alright. So…” Ian purred and stalked forward on his knees towards Mickey, prompting the Milkovich to raise his eyebrows. “What d’ya say you let me make it up to you now?”

“…You serious?”

“Mm-hmm.” Ian splayed himself out over Mickey and began worshipping his boyfriend’s neck again.

Mickey reluctantly turned his head to the side to allow for more room and glanced down, his eyes widening.

“Did you go back to that old fuck of a doctor’s place and raid his medicine cabinet to keep a secret stash or something? How the fuck are you _still_ hard?” Ian’s dick wasn’t as red and angrily foaming at its mouth as it was when Mickey was jerking it off earlier, but it was at a little less than half-mast, enough to ramp up Mickey’s concern once again.

Ian released a bark of laughter that had Mickey leaning back to look at Ian with an eyebrow raised since he really didn’t think it was that hilarious. “You know I don’t need shit like that to keep me going. It’s just you alone.” He said proudly.

“Yeah, clearly.” Mickey muttered. That shit couldn’t be normal but Mickey didn’t want to question it. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, tough guy.”

Ian smiled as if he knew Mickey would’ve already agreed that they could continue and reached over to snatch up the forgotten lube lying at the foot of their bed.

-

Turns out, Ian had a lot. And Mickey meant that in possibly all the ways that it sounded and he knew that he would feel the effects of the Gallagher’s insatiable sex drive the next morning or in a few hours when he woke up since it was crawling along to three in the goddamn morning.

He’d lost count after the third orgasm he’d had and at this point he could barely move, his vocal chords fried from the previous sessions. Yet Ian was still pounding away.

His hips were raised high, while his head was pillowed on his arms as Ian crouched over top of him, both feet planted flat on the bed, hands braced on the headboard shelving, dropping all of his weight into his thrusts and Mickey was wondering if it was possible to fucking die a premature death from some intense fucking because at the rate they were going, his whole body was going to end up shutting down. His brain up and waltzed out a little over an orgasm ago and took with it the function of his arms and legs, so he vaguely wondered what would be next.

The sheets were soaked in sweat and cum and Mickey would’ve been truly disgusted if he had any comprehension left but he didn’t. His body jerked and his mouth flopped open as Ian changed his angle and started nailing the fuck out of that one spot that was too over-sensitized from its previous assaults.

One of Ian’s hands had moved from where it was braced on the shelves to end up slipping all along his arched back before it eventually settled on his waist, the ginger’s large hand scalding hot to Mickey’s already heated body.

Small grunts of exertion escaped Ian’s mouth and it blended in with the squeaks of the bedspring along with the steady thumping of the bed frame against the wall and Mickey was positive that the rest of the occupants of the house could hear them but did he really care right now? Fuck no.

Then Mickey felt Ian pause and the next thing he knew his vision whited the fuck out and he curled his body inward from the intense burst of ecstasy that shot throughout his body.

Ian held onto his hips tightly, silently telling Mickey to take it as he continued to heavily grind his erect member straight against Mickey’s prostate. If Mickey still had much of a voice left, he knew he would’ve absolutely been _hollering_ , but instead he only had the ability to let out an endless stream of weak and wounded groans, his body shaking to the point that with wobbly arms and legs, he pulled himself up on hands and knees, the pleasure too fucking much.

“Oh, _fuckfuckfuckfuck_ , Ian. Holy fuck…” Mickey fumbled for the headboard with one of his hands and flung the other back to grip onto the side of Ian’s ass cheek, holding on for dear life.

“You gonna cum again?” Ian questioned in his ear.

Mickey nodded breathlessly, unable to speak and actually unable to truly tell if he really was going to cum or not because he was damn sure that the first couple rounds they went at it, that was it for him. He could only cum so many times with little to no refractory periods, but Ian obviously had no problem doing so.

Ian suddenly pulled out and Mickey groaned in both disappointment and relief. He collapsed forward onto his stomach and watched tiredly as his boyfriend lie down next to him on the humongous bed, getting comfortable by fluffing up some of the pillows behind his head and neck before beckoning to Mickey.

Mickey laughed incredulously. “I don’t even think I can move…” He slurred out.

Grinning smugly, Ian sat up and helps Mickey up onto his shaky knees, maneuvering him so he was balanced over Ian’s body but facing the dresser across the room.

Immediately, Mickey understood and lethargically leaned down, swallowing down as much of Ian as he could take in his delirious yet still aroused state. Strands of his hair escaped from his gelled hair, some falling into his face but Mickey paid no attention instead focusing on rubbing his tongue all along the head of Ian’s steadily drooling dick, groaning at the salty and thick taste and texture of the ginger’s pre-cum.

“Fuck _yes_.” Ian moaned, his hands running all over Mickey’s ass and thighs and back as if he couldn’t get enough of touching the Milkovich and couldn’t decide what to hold onto as Mickey slobbered all over his dick.

He finally decided to rest them on the Milkovich’s ass, massaging them and marveling at the white mounds, his fingerprints leaving behind pinkish, red marks. “Jesus, your fucking _ass_ , Mick. Best fucking one in Chicago.” He muttered the last part, his teeth playfully sinking into the fleshy mounds.

Mickey pulled off with a loud pop and turned to look at Ian from over his shoulder, scoffing. “Chicago? Why not the world?”

“’Cause I haven’t been all over the world, Mickey.” Ian said as if the answer was obvious.

“And you have all over Chicago?” Mickey questioned, his eyebrow lifting.

Ian tapped Mickey on the ass. “Shut the fuck up and get back to sucking, fucking egomaniac.”

“Fuck you.”

Ian was about to verbally retaliate but he closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the pillows as the Milkovich took him back into his scorchingly, wet mouth. Feeling that it was time he reciprocated, he relaxed and pressed down onto the small of the other male’s back, silently asking him to arch causing the Mickey to spread his legs more and lower his body to the point where he could feel his dick rubbing against Ian’s muscled chest.

Mickey moaned around the mouthful of cock in his mouth as he felt Ian’s mouth envelop his own straining dick. This was only their second time 69ing and he swore that this time it felt even better than the first because _fuck_ ; he didn’t think giving pleasure at the same time as receiving it could get his blood racing and his dick filling even more.

Pushing himself up on still trembling arms, what the fuck, Mickey grabbed a hold of Ian’s member and flawlessly engulfed the whole thing in his mouth, reaching all the way to the back of his gullet. It garnered a knee jerk reaction from Ian who quickly pulled off of Mickey’s dick to groan and swear loudly towards the ceiling at the same time he bucked his hips up. The other male gagged but was able to keep it in check, continuing to bob his head all the way until it reached the hilt, fingers toying with the ginger’s tautly drawn ball sack.

Not one to be outdone, Ian pulled himself together and shoved two fingers into Mickey’s cum and lube slicked passage, thrusting them a few times and then roughly curling them up and towards the side, his mouth fastening to the other male’s perineum, sucking around the area gently.

Mickey nearly choked this time and Ian’s cock lolled out of his mouth as he yanked his head up at the dual pleasure of his boyfriend’s talented mouth and fingers.

Said fingers were relentlessly stroking Mickey’s prostate and with every stroke, his body was drawn tighter and tighter, his hips helplessly thrusting back on the digits.

The explosive sensation he felt earlier when Ian was pounding his way to a new fucking planet inside of him came rushing back. His hand was still jerking Ian while the other reached down to tend to his own and he felt his thighs try to close as the constant pressure on his spot became too much to just sit there and take it.

His mouth was parted, the area around it shining with spit and pre-cum and the tiniest hint of snot, allowing hoarse groans to endlessly leak out in tandem with the _schlick-schlick-schlick_ noise of Mickey jacking both his and Ian’s dick, painting the room even more with the sounds of sex.

Tremors started to snake throughout his body and Mickey could tell that this was going to be the last orgasm he had for a while because he felt like he was on the verge of completely _shattering_. He wasn’t sure if this was going to be his fourth, fifth or sixth orgasm but whatever the number was, he was going to be _done_ after.

An achy, sensation of heat pooled towards the center of his groin and Mickey slipped his hand away from his dick to brace his hand on Ian’s stomach, his other hand slowing down in jerking the other male’s dick.

He was torn between telling Ian to ease up and give him a minute or a fucking _day_ to breathe and just screaming at him to keep going because he was _this_ close-

His heart was beating miles per minute, his breathing sounding like a thunderstorm wreaking havoc to his ears-

“Ohhh, holy _fuck_ , Ian _fuckin_ ’shitshitshitshit-” He went silent after that, his arms inevitably failing on him, his face colliding with Ian’s solid thigh as his vision went blank for a few seconds after a few spurts of cum came shooting out of him.

He vaguely registered Ian slowly withdrawing his fingers from his swollen and open passage but he was alert when the flat part of Gallagher’s tongue swiped over it a few times and he _whimpered_ at the rough feel of the wet muscle licking over his tender entrance, jerking his hips away.

Ian got the message and chuckled, skimming his hands up and down Mickey’s back. “Alright, alright. Fuck, you should’ve seen yourself, Mick. So fucking hot.”

All Mickey could hear was white noise at the moment. As good as that felt, they were never doing that shit again. At least in the near future. That orgasm was downright well, _orgasmic_ , that it felt fucking painful, twisting up Mickey’s insides and pulling his balls up so close to his body he thought they were gonna end up receding inside of him or some freaky shit like that.

If he thought he couldn’t move before, then he wasn’t moving from this spot for the next few years. Mickey sluggishly rolled off of Ian and onto the side of the bed, landing flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded and drowsy eyes.

Ian watched him for a second, hand idly caressing the Milkovich’s leg before he sat up and leaned over to push their lips together. His tongue ventured out to toy with Mickey’s and since the other male was temporarily out of commission, he let Ian fucking _devour_ his mouth, tongue digging in as if it was on an arduous quest and more saliva decorating the sides of both Ian and Mickey’s mouths.

“…You mind sucking me again?” Ian muttered lowly against Mickey’s mouth.

Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed and he pulled away from the kiss to look at his boyfriend. “What?”

“I didn’t get off.”

It was quiet for a minute and then Mickey answered. “Does it look like I can even move right now, Firecrotch? Seriously, you should be done by now.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“No fuckin’ way, man. You just fucked _and_ fingered the life outta me. That’s it.”

“Oh, come on, Mickey. It won’t even take long.” Ian complained, rising up on his arms to stare down at his lover with pleading eyes.

“Yea, it won’t take long and then you’ll be hard in another second beggin’ for more, fuck that. I’m _tired_. You got two perfectly functioning hands.”

He loved having sex with Ian, there was absolutely no doubt about that but right now he couldn’t even fathom going at it again, even if it was just sucking his dick. Ian was a teenager, yes, and everyone knew that teens and sex went together like fucking pop rocks and pepsi. That shit was _explosive_. And addicting to them. But Ian wasn’t that type. Sure he was extremely sexually active and had been since he was in middle school or around that time and he was unusually good at sex for his age, but this was something that Mickey was unfamiliar with when dealing with Ian.

They could go for rounds, sure, but with _breaks_ in between, fucking Christ. And he was talking about at least 10 to 15 minute breaks because they were still young. But this time? There were barely any breaks, maybe around two to five minutes, just straight through fucking and sucking.

As he witnessed the Gallagher start to lay on thick his puppy dog face, Mickey thought back to Lip listing hypersexuality as a red flag for this bullshit disease and started to realize that maybe this wasn’t only a teenager thing with the hormones bouncing off the walls of the body like some dumbass kid hyped up on sugar.

Mickey swallowed and rolled his eyes, breaking his gaze from Ian’s pitiful eyes. “You better cum fuckin’ quick or I swear I’ll leave your ass hangin’ high and dry.”

“I promise.” Ian said eagerly, scooting up towards the pile of pillows at the head of the bed and relaxing back.

Mickey, with great effort heaved himself up and dragged himself over to the ginger. Ian helped him situate himself so he was lying sideways on the bed, his head hovered above Ian’s lap, cock head red and bobbing in the air in excitement.

He wrapped his hand around the thick length and gave it a few slow strokes giving Ian one last exhausted glare to which the ginger shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and leaning down to mouth over the glistening head.

His tongue flicked over the slit a couple times and he let his hand reach up to hold the base of the dick as an anchor as he lowered his head, letting the cock fill his mouth inch by painstakingly slow inch.

“ _Fuck_ , get it all in there, Mick…” Ian growled out, his hand coming up to rest on Mickey’s slowly descending head.

Mickey eventually reached his hand where it held the base steady and he swallowed around the length impulsively and in quick succession. Ian gripped on tightly to Mickey’s already sex tousled hair and forced the tired male’s head to stay there for an extra couple seconds so he could thrust into the intoxicating heat.

“Mm, such a good fucking cocksucker...fuck yeah.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at the Gallagher’s choice of words but didn’t think on it too much. He was bone fucking tired, his body was aching, in a good way of course, and he was actually starting to get a fucking headache. He wasn’t sure if it was from his worry over Ian, the five million orgasms he just endured or the lack of oxygen being supplied as his mouth was stuffed to the brim with his boyfriend’s cock. Maybe it was a mixture of all three. But he thought that sex was supposed to be the magical cure for headaches and any other painful crap.

He didn’t have much control over his mouth since his brain was still on the road to recovery, so he was getting spit everywhere. And he meant _everywhere_. On his hand. All around Ian’s dick, including the area of his orange colored pubes. Some of it dripping off of Ian’s balls to land on the bed sheets beneath them.

It was pretty fucking disgusting, though since when was the act of sex anything but?

Mickey looked up from beneath his eyelashes at Ian and their eyes met and if Mickey had the interest or the willpower to get hard again, then he definitely would’ve. He went to turn his eyes away but Ian stopped him. “Wait, keep looking at me…you look so fucking good like this, Mickey, I swear. Ugh, fuck.”

He could see the Gallagher’s pupils were dilated as fuck, three times their usual size and he knew his probably looked the same.

Ian thrust a little too deep and Mickey gagged violently, tears sprouting up at the corner of his eyes. He pushed Ian’s hand off of his head before pulling away and coughed a few times, trying to wrestle the overwhelming urge to throw up.

“What the fuck, Ian?” He managed to get out between coughs and deep gulps.

The ginger was smiling and Mickey was shocked. “It’s not fuckin’ funny…You do that shit on purpose?”

“Oh, of course not, it was by accident. I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”

The vibration of a cell phone went off and Ian turned to the shelf behind him. He picked up his phone and dabbled on it for a couple seconds.

“Yeah, no shit…” Mickey frowned.

“Are you _pouting_?” Ian asked with an incredulous smile after typing something out on his phone and setting it back down.

Mickey flipped Ian the finger. “Fuck you.” He didn’t bother to dwell on the fact that he didn’t deny it. “I’m usin’ my hands since you obviously can’t fuckin’ control yourself.”

Ian nodded his agreement and handed Mickey the lube. The Milkovich accepted it and poured some of it into his hands and on Ian’s cock. Throwing it somewhere behind him, Mickey turned back to his task and started jerking off his boyfriend, alternating between his hands.

They barely had any ability to move much because he did just go through a continuous stream of orgasm after orgasm but he used all the strength he had left to hurry and get Ian off. His mind and eyes were starting to close up shop meaning it was time to wrap this up.

“Mmm,” Ian rumbled. “Faster.”

Mickey huffed out an inaudible sigh and sped up as demanded. One of his hands trailed down to roll the ginger’s heavy balls in his hand, pressing lightly on the space in between them while he leaned down and tongued the leaking slit before his face.

Ian hissed and his abdominal muscles started to flex and contract. “’M gonna cum…”

His arms started to burn from the intensity of his movements and he had to give those girls down at the Alibi some credit, any whore really, ‘cause this shit was a workout in itself, goddamn.

He took the head into his mouth, still jerking the rest of Ian’s length, his hand probably a blur with how fast he was going and suctioned his lips tightly around it, providing some pressure and sucking like his life depended on it.

Ian started to shift and sit up straighter, his body tightening up and Mickey knew he was a minute from blowing his load. “Ah, shit. Fucking swallow it, Mick…” Ian sifted his fingers through Mickey’s hair, latching on once again. “ _Swallow_ it.”

Dense stripes of cum burst forth from Ian’s dick and decorated the insides of Mickey’s mouth and tongue, the sheer amount of it causing some of it to overflow and drip down both Mickey’s chin and Ian’s length. “ _Yeah_ …”

Mickey gulped a good three mouthfuls and finally pulled off, a string of saliva mixed jizz trailing after him. He used his palm to wipe the bottom half of his face clean and in turn wiped it on a shirt discarded at the foot of their bed before he tossed it into the corner of the room carelessly.

He crawled to the head of the bed and collapsed onto his side, his body finally deciding that yeah, this time he wasn’t moving. Nothing short of a 10 point whatever magnum earthquake could move his ass, and he didn’t care if some shit like that didn’t exist. It further proved his point.

Ian hopped off the bed as if he didn’t just have a few orgasms himself and stepped into the bathroom. The sound of rushing water was heard and the ginger called out to him. “Hey, you want me to clean you up?”

“…Fuck no, man,” Mickey made a face at how fucked his voice sounded but continued. “I’ma take a shower later anyway…”

“It’s almost four o’clock in the morning, Mick. The next time you’ll take a shower is probably when you wake up at like one in the afternoon or some shit.”

“I’m a light sleeper.” And it was true. He’d fall asleep after sex without showering sometimes, and he’d wake up about an hour later from how uncomfortable dried cum and spit felt on his body and inside his ass. He didn’t understand how some people did that. “Yo, what you doin’ in there anyway? Come back to bed.”

“Can’t,” Mickey blinked blearily as he heard the tell tale sign of Ian brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face. “Gallagher pool party.”

Ian walked out of the bathroom and pulled out a sleeveless shirt and some simple swim trunks. “At four o’ clock in the morning?” Mickey deadpanned. Who the fuck does some shit like that?

“Yeah, man. It’s never too late for a family get together, especially a pool party.” Ian said matter of factly.

He dressed himself in the clothes he picked out and Mickey’s dazed eyes lingered over Ian’s chest where the shirt melded perfectly to showcase his increasingly muscular build and over the front of his swim trunks where he could see the slightest outline of the Gallagher’s finally, thank fucking Christ, soft package.

“Ian.”

“Hmm?”

“How the fuck are you even walking right now?”

The taller male turned away from where he was fixing his hair in the medium-sized circular mirror hanging on the wall off to the side of the large dresser and gave Mickey a confused look. “What’re you talking about?”

“Dude, you came like _three_ times. You ain’t tired?” Mickey questioned, his forehead wrinkled in hesitant worry.

“Mmm, nope.” Ian said simply.

Mickey continued to watch as Ian got ready to leave from beneath exhausted lids, countless thoughts running rampant through his head. “Wanna come? Mick?” He realized Ian was talking to him but didn’t hear his question.

“What?”

“Asked if you wanna come with me.”

“Thought I already did.” Mickey answered sleepily.

And there goes that fucking laugh again. That overly loud one he used when shit wasn’t really that funny. “Nah, but seriously.”

“It look like I’m in any state to be walkin’ anywhere, let alone goin’ swimmin’?” He gestured to his lax and naked body, now stretched out under the top sheet of the bed, his head pillowed comfortably, with raised brows.

“You look good like that.” Ian roamed his eyes appreciatively over Mickey’s body.

“Everything I do looks good to you.” Mickey wanted to roll his eyes but was afraid they’d get stuck with how fucking tired he was.

“True.”

Ian went over and gave Mickey a few pecks on the lips and Mickey could taste and smell the mint from the toothpaste and idly wondered if Ian could taste himself on Mickey’s lips. “I’ll see you later.” Ian whispered against Mickey’s swollen mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, get the fuck outta here so I can pass out in peace.”

Ian gave him one last kiss before he turned away and walked out of the room, a few seconds later, Mickey heard the front door shut.

He rolled over onto his back and let out a deep sigh.

 _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> Tried to portray how different Ian's starting to appear, not sure if I succeeded.
> 
> But thanks for reading.


End file.
